ah, what a difference a day (or a few days) make(s).
A few days off to chill out and hang out with my kiddo. It was awesome. Awesome. A perfect day. We even got in a big long nap.
Now I'm back at work, avoiding work as usual.
Life is still a little sad, but that's only because I hate it when people are mad at me. I can't blame them one bit, but it still makes me sad. Because I really liked talking to them every day. Because they both are/were really cool guys. And I miss that humor and that flirtation. Different kinds of flirty they were. It was simply flattering. Absolutely. And unfortunately, playing with fire, as it turns out.
[aside]
Although, man, there still is one cutie flirty IRC boy. You're just cute. Adorable. I wish I knew of a cutie pie in NYC for you. And if I were in NYC again. Man, you'd surely been in trouble. It would be worth saving money up for that.
[aside over]
I also have always hated when I meet someone cool, and I really would like it to work and something's off about it. Bad timing. Sex weirdo. Long distance. Idiot. Pompous Intellectual or Pseudo-intellectual. One party isn't available. Or someone just simply isn't interested in me. Not everyone is going to like me, and I can easily accept that.
I know Aim, you want me to find my soul mate, but I really think that it isn't time for me. I'm not ready yet. I'm not the best I can be. And I don't feel even close.
If I were a guy, I don't think I'd want to date me either.
Now fucking me might be a different story ...
But that puts me back where I was before. Fucking someone who has no investment in me. And I have a hard time fucking someone unless there is something there. Even if it is just friendship. I'm a dumbass like that.
But, like someone asked me, would I really want to change that?
And. No.
I don't think I would.
---------------------------
Someone (actually a few people) told me I should start a journal of my poems. So that he could go at night, read them, and have a good jerking off.
I have contemplated that. So that this journal isn't so smutty, lame and perverted.
Although I do kind of like the different sides of me. Slutty, Mommy, Sexy, Sad, Strong, Desirable, Psycho.
Sybil. She lives.
------------------------------
here's one, just for you. I've posted it before a while back, but was too lazy to go find it. "Describe yourself, not by appearance, but by touch." Here is what became of that assignment (from the man who named me deb_u_taunt):
she that does not touch
these touches to the world but not herself
everywhere she goes, no one sees her
invisible, silent, strong, sexy, lovely, sex
her eyes hold her secrets well
as they have seen long before their time
as they know what no other knows will know will ever know
the past and the past and past ancient
no other can fathom what she feels how she feels what she knows
what man has stroked of this dark dark hair
long into the night of sex and sex
they want to see to see the flash of eyes those eyes these eyes
to see the sex to see the secret of her longing her giving her spell
to touch lips to flesh to breasts to touch feel of this mouth
in and so full so giving so knowing and wanting
these lips desire all and every and all and more desire
to ache to rock of this mouth this tongue this kiss this kiss
and more lovingly these breasts hold oh cherished oh daughter
gentle touch to kiss to feel to stroke as much
to ache this must ache this ache so deep so warm
to feel this warmth this wet this warm to touch so wet
knowingly, wantonly this pain's ache
so deep so deep only one only one to seek
these secrets to hide so hidden so hide these secrets
she hides
she hides
she knows